


At the Embassy Party

by ultharkitty



Series: Make Love Not War [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/pseuds/ultharkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirage finds a fun use for his powers of invisibility. Blast Off helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Embassy Party

Official functions had never been so entertaining. The ambassador and her consort chatted under the vast crystal hangings, a glittering island in a sea of the great and the good. They sipped the finest Vosian high grade, laughing and smiling and playing court, and Mirage would ordinarily have been with them, the epicenter of his clique, adored and haughty and bored out of his mind.

The electro-disruptor had changed everything. He stood immobile and invisible in the lee of an alien potted plant, his cord engulfed by his newest toy, his valve quivering around the intrusion of his favourite tentacled vibrator.

It shook him from the inside out, a high pitched buzz only just surpassed in volume by the roar of conversation. And over by the window, gazing out at the twinkling starscape, Blast Off held the remote control.

The shuttle moved, shifting weight from one foot to the other, lifting a gel cube to his lips. The vibrations increased, the toy shifted, transforming, growing to press against Mirage’s internal walls.

Mirage leant on the plant’s heavy plinth. In time Blast Off would come to him, would find interest perhaps in the strange exotic flora. Would allow their energy fields to meld and mesh, to tug Mirage from his hiding place, to tow him down the embassy’s wide stairs to one of the private meeting rooms on the floor below.

A soft grunt passed Mirage’s lips, a trickle of lubricant escaped his closed hatch to stain his thigh. By the window the shuttle flicked the control once more. Mirage melted.


End file.
